


The Same Deep Water As You

by thelivingbird



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Gunshot Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelivingbird/pseuds/thelivingbird
Summary: "Her mother fell asleep completely unburdened. She had years of practice in that. The ability to shrug off the despicable, even from others had become second nature. Or was it her nature? Born with a heart turned inside out or a perfectly functionally one that with time, circumstance, and practice became the engine driving the woman Lyra saw now. And what of Lyra’s heart?"Marisa and Lyra in the cave, with a twist.
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	The Same Deep Water As You

**Author's Note:**

> I re-ordered the events from TSK and TAS. In short, Lyra's journey to the world of the dead happens PRE-cave. In this version, Lyra is captured by the Magisterium and from here, the story picks up.

_“Can't you see I try_ _  
Swimming the same deep water as you is hard  
The shallow drowned lose less than we  
You breathe the strangest twist upon your lips_ _”_

\- The Cure “The Same Deep Water As You”

_“I also saw how much the past, so long kept secret, pulled us into formations like a deep ocean current, from so far below that we barely knew we were not moving on our own.”_

– Nadja Spiegelman from I’m Supposed to Protect You from All This

* * *

The plan was to draw a line down the middle and open up her skin like two angelic wings. Under the stark, unforgiving lights of a laboratory, there would be no more mystery about the girl fated to twist order itself into chaos. She had already done her damage in the world of the dead, but they were prepared for her return to the world of the living ready to put a stop to the second and much more terrifying phase of what she would could do. It was a good idea. Capturing the daemons, all alone, luring the children to find them. It was easy. Of course, the boy would be left to die of exposure in the elements, as they anticipated nothing and no one would come for him.

They were convinced they would find the mark of evil in the girl. A mutation that explains why such a small creature could cause such ruin in a centuries old system, and an even more ancient belief. It would make sense to let the work go ahead, ending all her problems. All of Marisa Coulter’s work would be reduced to nothing but rubble for the sake of Dust. And yet, it can be rather difficult to allow your own child to be the subject to vivisection. 

She held out long enough. After all, she had to let them think she was in agreement, if not eager, to do this work. It took some convincing, a special exaggeration of the ice that runs in her veins to put on a believable show. There was no reason to doubt her, they thought. For over a decade she had proved that the Magisterium, first and foremost, had her devotion. They didn’t even check to see the stashed pack right under the operating table.

The doctor had already numbed the child half unconscious before Marisa stuck one of the blades into his neck. She fired at will as her golden monkey worked at Lyra’s restraints. The adrenaline set her alight. Marisa hardly felt the fire she set loose on all those men. Nor did she feel the freezing water she carried Lyra through as they fled. Flames behind her and a river up to her neck, Marisa used all of her energy to fight the current of the river while keeping hers and Lyra’s heads above water.

On the other side, her body had begun to give out and Marisa was forced to take refuge in a filthy hole on the side of the mountain. She practically dropped Lyra onto the hard rock and fell beside her with her own thud. As she drifted off, she finally felt the sting of all the cuts and bruises she sustained. A singular point in her right leg burned and screamed with vengeful intensity.

Before Marisa could arrange the words in her mind to what had happened to her, everything went dark, and Lyra woke up.

* * *

As if the past few hours of her life condensed into just a few seconds, Lyra felt every sensation from the pressure of a needle to the roughness of the stone beneath her. The series of painful sensations woke her with a jolt. Lyra embraced Pantalaimon thankful to have escaped yet another horrifying experiment. Her heart sunk at the realization that Will was lost out there, but then again, she was lost too. All she knew was that she was in a cave and somehow still alive. All this ran through her mind before she saw her mother’s unconscious body gripping a pack with blood stained on her clothes.

“Is she…” Pan didn’t dare to finish his sentence.

Lyra’s eyes strained to search her dark surroundings. The golden monkey was curled up, shivering in his sleep. Lyra sighed in relief. Pan slowly crawled out of Lyra’s arms and inched toward the monkey. He wouldn’t touch, instead pacing around the other daemon.

Pan turned back to Lyra, “He’s not well. This isn’t just sleep, Lyra. Something’s wrong.” Next, he padded over to Marisa. “It’s _her_ blood, Lyra.”

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she started crawling over to Marisa’s side. As she pried the pack from her arms, Marisa let out a groan in her sleep causing Lyra to shuffle back. Then after another few moments, she returned, pushing the torn fabric aside to get a better look at the damage.

Most of the damage bled worse than it was. It would heal with time, but on the leg… The leg was so red with blood Lyra had to wipe some away before she could make sense of it. A crater lay at the center of puckered and shredded skin. Something had cut through to the muscle. Out of a curious reflex, Lyra touched and poked at the wound causing Marisa to cry out and wake for only the briefest of moments before collapsing back into darkness.

“She won’t be able to follow us,” Pan whispered, “No way she can walk with that.”

Lyra snapped at him, “What does that mean?”

“We need to go while we can.”

“She could die, Pan,” Lyra’s voice broke.

“There are more deserving people who need our help.”

It wasn’t as if it wasn’t a tempting opportunity and Pan wasn’t wrong. “You know I can’t. Even if you can’t feel it too anymore.”

Pan rested his head on Lyra’s lap, “I can still feel it. I know.”

Lyra held him for a second longer. No words to express the gratitude or the guilt from what was to come and what had just happened. She opened up the pack, busying her thoughts with the task at hand. This would take more than cleaning.

“Bandages, Lyra. Slow the bleeding.”

“I know,” Lyra whined, “Just was looking for them.”

The bandages sat at the top of the bag. Pan eyed Lyra until she registered them. She may have no experience with things like this, but she did recognize the basic needs of patching someone up. She wrapped the wound as tightly as she could manage it. This small task was already forcing her to acknowledge the fatigue in her own body. The cold was seeping into her bones.

Lyra clenched her teeth, “What do I do next, Pan?”

“I don’t know,” Pan curled up around her neck, “Keep her warm? You need to rest.”

“What if I wake up and…” Lyra said, “This isn’t enough.”

“We have to sleep,” Pan urged, “We’ll do more in the morning. There were blankets in the pack. You can share one and use the spare as a pillow.”

Lyra followed his instructions. “You won’t leave. If I fall asleep… right?”

“I won’t leave,” Pan spoke as Lyra shut her eyes, “I promise.”

She must have overslept. The sun was shining directly into the cave and into her eyes. Lyra was squinting before she even fluttered her eyelids open. When she finally did, she realized there was no one next to her.

Marisa had hoisted herself up, supporting her back on the wall of the cave. If she wasn’t moving, Lyra would have thought she had become a corpse with the shade of her skin. She looked to be taking inventory of whatever she managed to smuggle away. The haphazard job Lyra had done on her leg was still in place.

“I’ll thank you for the effort,” Marisa spoke without lifting her eyes, “But I think we need to revisit how best to proceed with my treatment. How are you feeling?”

“When did you wake up?” Lyra asked, “How did I sleep through it?”

“After what they gave you it’s incredible you didn’t sleep a full day.” Marisa wiped away beads of sweat that had appeared on her forehead. “You should’ve cleaned and sterilized the cuts, but I managed this morning. It shouldn’t be too late. _This_ however…” She grabbed her leg, “We’ll have a more difficult time with. I think it is too late for me to stave off infection.”

“We?” Lyra gawked.

“Don’t play this game with me,” Marisa said, “If you were going to leave you would have done so already. You didn’t answer my question. You feel well? Well, all things considered.”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have us out of here in mere days. There’s just enough food, if we’re smart, that should keep us until then.”

“You’re too sick,” Lyra stood, “I know enough that I know you can’t be running things for much longer. You’ll be face down on the floor in minutes if you try to keep up with me like this.”

Marisa just raised her eyebrows at the child.

“Now,” Lyra started examining the unpacked items herself this time. Food, some clean water, a bottle of medicine, blankets, spare clothes… “Tell me what next.”

Lyra’s mother continued to peer at her, until, “First, you’ll have to help dig the bullet that’s lodged in my leg. Now we don’t have the most _ideal_ tools, but it is what it is, I suppose.” The golden monkey pummeled a rock to bits on the other side of the cave. “You should also have something ready to soak up any blood. There is a possibility the bullet is actually blocking some of the flow. In that case, you’ll have to act fast. Bring the water here.”

Lyra felt like she was about to faint herself. Maybe Pan was right. What could Lyra do for her, anyway? Even after everything, the weight of this was suffocating. And what if she fell unconscious again?

“Lyra,” Marisa questioned, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Lyra said quietly and she went to work. Marisa had bunched a piece of cloth and put it between her teeth. She guided Lyra’s hand which held the knife and helped her push the blade in. A wave of nausea passed through Lyra. Then she felt the lead meet metal.

The golden monkey anguished, no longer able to resist returning to Marisa’s side. He scratched at the walls and twisted his body on the floor. Marisa, however, stayed focused even as tears left her eyes.

As Lyra pushed the bullet to the surface, Marisa could no longer help but releasing her screams. The cries were slightly muffled by the fabric, but Lyra still froze at the outburst. The bullet hadn’t gone too deep, but the path it took wasn’t a smooth one. As the bullet came free from Marisa’s leg, it dropped to the ground with barely a sound.

Marisa pushed Lyra away and quickly began cleaning the wound. Her hands shook, but Lyra made no attempt at trying to return to help. Marisa poured some of the water over herself and took the rest of it to drink. Lyra hoped it wasn’t the only rations they had. She pulled out thread, pulled from her own clothing, and tried to put it through the needle. At this point, Lyra intervened to thread it herself.

“Stitches?” Lyra asked.

Marisa nodded.

She tried her best. It was still such a mess it took some time for Lyra to make sense which parts of the skin needed to be pulled back together. Mrs. Lonsdale taught Lyra to sew back at Jordan college. All that amounted to was some rags stitched together, which Lyra found endlessly amusing as Mrs. Lonsdale had to cut them apart so she could actually use the things for work.

Human flesh was much more difficult to sew together as it fought off the point of the needle. Marisa whimpered every time Lyra tugged the thread to pull the torn ends of skin together. Lyra forced herself to focus on the task and shut down the rest of her senses. Once, she looked up at her mother and saw that her eyes were squeezed shut.

Lyra was almost finished when she brought herself back to the world, “I don’t know how to do knots.”

“What?” Marisa let out her breath.

“I can’t tie it.”

Marisa examined the job so far. For a moment, Lyra was sure she saw an impressed expression cross her mother’s face. She felt ashamed when she realized impressing her mother made her swell with some pride. “I can finish it myself.”

Her hands were still shaking, but she was able to tie out the end of the stitching. It was definitely not a professional looking fix. Lyra could only imagine the sort of nasty scar that would develop there if everything would be able to heal correctly. The bandages would have to be reused. The dried brown blood from the night before mixed with fresh red spots coming up from the stitching. It looked ugly, but it was all they had.

Marisa laid herself on the ground. The golden monkey tucked himself in at her at her side and she was too exhausted to protest. “You’ll need to get more water. There was a river we passed through, not too far from here. Just listen for the sound of it. Mark your way so you can come back. Bring wood as well for a fire.” Lyra thought she looked like a child as she grabbed the blankets and wrapped herself up, still shivering.

It was a strange sequence of events. Moments before her mother was awake practically performing surgery on herself. Now, she was flat on her back, mumbling, weak, and helpless. Lyra got up, but not before she saw her mother drift off to sleep.

Just as Marisa said, Lyra only had to follow the sound of rushing water and she was able to get to the river quickly. She took a moment to rest by the banks. The sound of the current rushing past was hardly enough to clear her head. Lyra still thought of that horrible wound and the feel of the bullet against the knife. Just the memory of it churned her stomach. On instinct, she reached for the container that was meant for the water.

“Lyra,” Pan warned.

And she held back her unease. Marisa would probably be sleeping for a while. The cave was not too far away. There was plenty of time to take some time for herself.

Lyra kicked off her shoes, “I’m going for a swim.”

“Well, you do smell,” Pan teased.

Lyra waded into the water. It was freezing, but exhilarating. Unable to stand the gradual float in, Lyra dived. The water was cool and quiet. Lyra just let herself float as the river took care of carrying her. She levitated in the water, until she began to sink. The tide had its grip around her ankles, pulling her under and away from the banks where Pan was watching.

She saw him rush to catch up with her, and she assumed he was calling to her, but the water’s gentle hum had turned into a scream in her ears. Lyra thrashed as she tried to swim against the tide, but the fatigue still lingered in her bones begging her to rest into the pull.

No one was coming. So, she continued thrashing in the icy river. The river that not long ago at all Marisa carried her through in the dead of night. She managed the tide with a bullet lodged in one of her legs. If she could do it, so could Lyra. She let her head sink under the water and she swam as hard as she possibly could. She swam against the ache and the fear in her body until her lungs were about to explode.

At the moment she couldn’t take it any longer, Lyra burst above the water, gripping at the mud. Land. Beautiful land. Pan bit at her fingers in terror and relief. As she crawled onto the soil, she caught her breath. The clear sky somehow swirled and pulsed in her vision.

_Mother._

She wanted her mother. Maybe not that woman, asleep in a fever dream in a cold cave a long walk away, but the one who ran into rushing waters in the dark, not knowing how deep it was to the bottom or how far the other side was. She wanted to curl up at her side, bury her face and fall asleep to the sound of a heartbeat knowing that she was safe. When the ice is in your bones, you’ll look at a burning building and think only of its warmth.

It was nearly dark when Lyra got back. Admittedly, she found herself walking in circles trying to return.

Marisa was still asleep. Lyra considered her luck. She wasn’t ready to answer questions about her soaked clothes or hair. Despite the circumstances, it was Marisa’s teeth that were chattering. Lyra unwrapped a bit of the bandage to inspect the wound. The stitching had held so far, but the skin had grown gruesomely discolored and ooze seeped out. Lyra pulled the blanket back over the leg not wanting to look anymore.

What to do next? A fire for the water.

“If only you could turn into a dragon again,” Lyra joked.

“Do you even know how to start a fire,” Pan inspected the pile of wood Lyra was throwing together, “You have to start with kindling, remember?”

“I remember,” said Lyra, “Will you go to him? I think she needs more heat and I’ll be a moment to get this fire started.”

“You want me to what?”

Lyra glared at him, “We’re not going to have done all this just to give up now. Please.”

Pan reluctantly went to the golden monkey and laid himself along the daemon’s neck. The thing twitched at the contact, but did not open his eyes. “I don’t think this is going to help.”

Lyra put her hand to her mother’s head. She was ice cold. In the dim light it was hard to tell exactly how well she looked, but Lyra couldn’t imagine an improvement in her complexion. “What did Mrs. Lonsdale do when we got sick?”

“She gave us our meals in our warm and comfortable bed. Oh, and she sent for the doctor. Which we don’t have.” Even with his quips, Pan didn’t leave the golden monkey. Lyra was beginning to worry how long they would be here. How much longer would the food last?

Even if she managed to somehow make her mother strong enough to leave her here on her own, what would happen next? Lyra couldn’t simply walk out without a fight. And then if she did escape her mother’s grasp, where would she go? She had no idea where her friends were or if anyone knew where she had gone. For all they knew she might have died in whatever carnage her mother had caused back at that horrible place. Everything could work out and they could _both_ still die in this awful cave anyway.

A spark. The kindling caught fire. A wind rushed through the cave sending a chill down Lyra’s spine. She shielded the small sputtering flames as best she could until the wood had reached a steady burn. In the dark, Lyra did her best to arrange the pot of water over the flame. She hugged her knees to her chest watching the fire hoping they would be enough to set the water boiling.

Marisa’s hand reached out closer to the heat. “Did you use the lighter?”

“The lighter?” Lyra wanted to bash her head against the wall. “No. No, I didn’t use the lighter.”

Maybe it was the acoustics of the cave, but Lyra would have sworn she heard Marisa giggle. How long would it take to sterilize the water? Lyra took cupped her hands a took a sip. Tasted clean enough.

“I almost drowned,” she said it spontaneously, matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me?”

“In the river. When I went to get the water.”

“How could that be?” Marisa grumbled, “You could have collected the water from the banks.”

“I took a swim.”

“That was foolish.” Marisa tucked the blanket tighter around her neck. She was speaking with her eyes closed. “Beans.”

“What?”

“Make the beans.”

“What beans?”

“The canned beans. I’m hungry.” Moments later Marisa was snoring.

Ignoring the infection spreading could only go on for so long. She would get her mother fed and watered and hopefully she would know what to do. Though Lyra couldn’t imagine there was much _left_ to do. The medicine Marisa packed look generic. Nothing strong enough to fight off anything this serious. It would be up to her mother’s own force of will.

She couldn’t sleep that night. Instead, finding herself watching her mother’s breath. Pan stayed by the golden monkey’s side doing the same. There were five seconds where Marisa’s chest stopped rising and falling and Lyra thought it was all over. A sneeze later, and the breath returned.

When dawn broke, Lyra still didn’t rest, instead cooking in the near dark. Pan left the golden monkey to pace around the perimeter of the cave. They both continued that way in silence until Pan, just for a moment, disappeared from Lyra’s vision.

“Pan,” Lyra murmured urgently, “Pan, are you there?”

“I’m here,” His head popped up from behind a rock, “Lyra, you need to look at this.”

Lyra crawled on hands and knees to where Pan was investigating. Wedged between two stones, was a pistol.

“What are the chances that was just there?” Pan asked. “She must have had _him_ hide it for her.”

“Why would she hide it from us?” Lyra picked up the gun and balanced it on both of her palms. If this was protection, for the both of them, there would be no need to keep it a secret. Hiding it had to mean it was going to be used as a threat against her, but for what? What was Marisa’s original plan? Where was she intending to take Lyra? The Magisterium can’t be an option now, but that doesn’t mean her mother didn’t have friends in other equally high places.

The smell of food made her mother stir. Lyra pulled the gun close to her chest. Pan scurried around the stones, finding another break. He patted the spot for Lyra to hide it. At least it would be slightly harder for the golden monkey to get his hands on it again. Lyra quietly returned to the fire, before her mother was fully conscious.

Marisa’s throat was so dry she couldn’t even get words out. Lyra set water beside her. Before she finished drinking the cup of water without starting into a coughing fit. The air felt thick with sickness. It clouded the vision and stifled the lungs. It had the smell of decay. Whether or not it was just in Lyra’s mind didn’t matter.

She rationed the food for the both of them. Marisa didn’t have the strength to prop herself up, falling down as she tried to rest on an elbow. Lyra had to come and hold her head up as she ate. It was clear Marisa felt degraded by the gesture, initially pulling away from the support only to be grabbed by the collar of her shirt like a disobedient pup. Lyra’s aggression in that action took both of them by surprise.

Marisa was so fragile in this moment. It was incredible to think how much power the daughter suddenly possessed over the mother. Lyra thought she could snap her mother’s neck without a fight.

Lyra didn’t realize her face had gotten stuck in a frown until Marisa looked up at her curiously. Lyra dropped her head down and pulled back the blanket. “Look.”

“It’s more repulsive in appearance than in feeling.” Marisa’s breath was labored, “The pills. Twice a day, you’ll have to,” she sighed, “I won’t be able to keep track. The fever will make it difficult for me.” Already, her eyes were fluttering shut.

Lyra nudged her with her foot. “What else? What do I do about the fever?”

“It’s good. Maybe. It means I’m still fighting, that’s all,” she rolled herself closer to the fire.

So pathetic. She thought this of her mother, certainly, but then the anger turned back on herself. Pathetic. She was waiting on this sickly demanding thing who had caused her nothing but pain. Marisa had killed without guilt or regret. And from what Pan found, it looked like she was already awaiting the next time she could torment Lyra without inhibition. The world was a worse place because of Marisa Coulter and Lyra knew this to be true. And yet Lyra was here. For what? If Lyra could rip the compassion from her heart right there, she would march out of the cave delighting in the knowledge that this woman could no longer do any damage to anyone ever again.

Yet the image of her mother’s body rotting right here on this very floor was horrifying. Animals would feed on her bit by bit until her bones were stripped clean. No one would know this of course, except for Lyra. They would just think that the woman disappeared. But in Lyra’s dreams, her mother’s bones would plague her for the rest of her life. Even though Lyra would know it was not her fault and that anyone would understand why she did it, that ghost would still be there. Unfortunately, Lyra was not the sort of person who could live with that. She’s been haunted by lesser things.

Marisa took the first pill. “Rest,” she spoke matter-of-factly, “If I die in my sleep, there won’t be anything you can do about it.”

Lyra made herself as comfortable as she could. Sleep settled on her without permission.

Cold drops of water were hitting Lyra’s face. Rain. Heavy rain carried by severe winds. They would need to move their things to keep them from getting soaked. As Lyra did the job, she noticed there were a few less pills in the bottle. She must have been asleep longer than she hoped.

Another check-up, not expecting improvement. The skin was coming back together. The discoloration was fading slightly, though something would have to be done with the dead skin. Marisa was right. She was fighting off whatever was attacking her, but this time when Lyra touched her forehead it was burning. She shook her shoulder, but Marisa wouldn’t wake up.

Lyra’s heart began to race. She felt for a breath, for a pulse. It was beating incredibly fast, but Marisa was just lying there as if in a deep slumber. Without thinking, Lyra looped her arms under her mother’s and dragged her to the mouth of the cave. The rain beat down on them both causing Lyra to shiver. It was minutes before Marisa gasped, so shocked she managed to partly sit up.

She looked at Lyra dumbfounded.

“You weren’t waking up.”

“Get me inside, damn it!” Marisa rolled herself onto her knees, reaching out to have Lyra help her up. They only managed to get halfway in before Marisa collapsed. Lyra threw the blankets on her.

“I’m sorry, I had to.”

Marisa didn’t acknowledge her words, using the energy of the shock just to get herself settled again.

Lyra sat down, resting her head in her hands as she caught her breath, “You do look to be getting better.”

“Lovely,” Marisa shivered, “You need to tend the fire.”

“All the wood is wet.”

It sounded as if Marisa growled. “You didn’t tell me your daemon settled.”

“It’s not important. But I guess it does mean I’m safe from _you_ now.”

“You were never going to be-“

“Yes, I remember.”

Both of their breaths started to steady. Lyra got up quietly, walking outside of her mother’s vision. She picked up two items.

“You need another,” she handed Marisa a pill.

Marisa eyed it before finally taking it herself.

“Didn’t you also say that there were other ways to poison a person? In my case, I could just let your body do the work.”

“Hmm,” Marisa smiled, “That’s true. Though, I don’t think a gun would qualify under poisoning. A bullet can poison the blood system. It’s a little too ironic, I think, for that considering you put in the work to help me avoid that. When are you going to tell me that you took it?”

Lyra didn’t even flinch at her words, “I don’t know.”

“Are you planning on using it? Today? I imagine that’s why you’ve started carrying it with you. Is it now? In my sleep? That’s dastardly. Not even _I_ would do that.”

“Stop talking,” Lyra gritted her teeth. This was all a joke to her. Wouldn’t it be something to prove her mother wrong. She certainly deserved it. Pan’s claws were softly scratching at the ground, his eyes on the golden monkey who sat calmly with his head tilted ever so slightly returning the gaze. “You’ll die without me.”

“You said I’m getting better.”

“Maybe.”

“Then it’s not _certain_ I’ll die without you.”

“You can barely keep yourself awake. You could barely wake up at all,” Lyra’s voice was starting to rise to a shout, “What were you going to do with me? Who were you taking me to?”

Marisa trained her gaze to the ceiling of the cave, “Don’t worry about that now, Lyra. Now is the time to be practical more than anything.”

“Practical? Then answer this: what am I keeping you alive for?”

“I’m going to keep you safe.”

“How?”

“Why would I go to all this trouble just to throw you to the wolves?”

“There’s plenty you do that I could never understand.” Lyra’s fingers itched to take hold of the gun tucked at her back, “You understand I’m not staying with you after this. Ever. You know this?”

Something on Marisa’s face twitched, “We’ll discuss this later. Like you said, I don’t have the energy. I want to sleep.”

Lyra just stood there waiting for the next verbal dagger to be thrown. She wanted to scream and pull her hair out. Her mother fell asleep completely unburdened. She had years of practice in that. The ability to shrug off the despicable, even from others had become second nature. Or was it her nature? Born with a heart turned inside out or a perfectly functionally one that with time, circumstance, and practice became the engine driving the woman Lyra saw now. And what of Lyra’s heart? Was there a change already progressing in _her?_ By the time she would notice, would it already be too late?

In an attempt to quiet the rage and the unpleasant thoughts that had been unlocked inside her, Lyra busied herself with taking inventory. There was maybe enough food for one more day and Marisa wasn’t healing fast enough to be on that sort of schedule. If they _were_ going to survive Lyra would have to practically carry her mother out of here until they found help. It all felt so embarrassingly futile. It was a waste of time.

Think practically, is what Marisa urged her to do. Practically thinking, Lyra had a thought that only encouraged her anger to take full control.

The tip of her shoe lodged itself in her mother’s side. “Wake up.”

When Marisa opened her eyes, she was greeted with the barrel of her own gun in her face. Lyra savored the momentary look of fear that flashed across her mother’s face.

“Are you really going to kill me, Lyra? After all this?”

It took everything in Lyra to keep her whole body from shaking, “You deserve it. After all you’ve done.”

“What will you tell your father?” Marisa’s tone wasn’t accusing, instead it was full of pity.

Lyra didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the heat of her own tears, “He won’t know. No one will.”

“It will just exist in your mind. Maybe one day you can trick yourself into thinking it was a dream,” she began to speak softly, “You don’t even know how to use that thing.”

Lyra’s mother’s hands came up to take the gun, but she didn’t pull it away from Lyra. Instead, she tilted it to the side, switching off the safety. Then she pushed down the hammer so all that would be required is the slightest twitch of a finger on the trigger. She pulled the barrel until it was touching her own forehead and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“It will be easier for you if I don’t look.” She didn’t look afraid. Her breathing was easier than it had been in days. “Don’t be upset. I’m sure you’re thinking my prognosis isn’t good and your chances aren’t much better if you keep investing in me. It’s wise. Really.”

The rain continued to beat on outside. Lyra wasn’t sure how long she held the gun in place. Only her own heartbeat noted that time was in fact, still moving forward. Pan broke from his watch of the golden monkey paw at Lyra. He looked terrified, but not of any outside enemy. It was Lyra who had frightened him.

Lyra aimed the gun to the mouth of the cave and fired. Marisa’s eyes jolted open. Her hand went to her own heart to make sure it was still beating. Lyra had tossed the gun into the rain.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Lyra pressed the heels of her hands against the sides of her head. Her howls filled the cave. She couldn’t recognize the sound of her own voice bouncing back at her. It was as if all this time running through worlds had crashed down on her. She kept shrieking, trying to get the poison out.

Then she felt her mother’s hand on her back. “It’s alright.” Both arms around her, shaking. “It’s okay.”

* * *

The child had tired herself out, sleep taking over her before she could push her way out of her mother’s arms. Marisa flexed her leg back and forth testing the muscle. She certainly couldn’t walk on it without aid. The thing protested against even those small movements. The fever was dropping however, and she would be able to make short distances if need be. If Lyra was going to run, Marisa would make a camp by the river until she was well enough to go on. And if Lyra decided to stay…

Lyra coughed in her sleep. Now they were both going to need care, but Marisa’s supplies were almost depleted. Marisa hadn’t had the chance to send word ahead. No one would be expecting them.

But Marisa’s thoughts were far more occupied with other things to worry about that for long. She never expected her daughter to go through with it. She figured Lyra stealing the gun was just to give her a sense of personal power and agency, but the moment the gun went off she was sure she was about to come to in a far less forgiving place. There was no illusion about her daughter’s affection for her, but she thought that there had to be a shred of something, curiosity at least, that Marisa could tend to and help grow. It was a rude awakening, to say the least. Whatever need Lyra had for a mother was small in comparison to her hatred. Venom like that was a fearsome competitor and not so easily drained from the soul. Marisa knew that more than well enough.

This child in her arms, with a fever already starting to rise, hated her with such intensity and yet couldn’t bear to let her die even though she had every reason to rejoice in the event. Where did she get this compassion from? Who tended it and encouraged its growth? The golden monkey watched the pine marten, but dared not to make contact.

Voices began to reach the cave. The markings. Lyra must’ve not removed them on her journey back from the river. She had led the Magisterium right to them.

The glow of angels filled the dark place. Two of them, in fact with a young boy. If they were shocked by the state they were in, they didn’t show it.

“We’ve come for the girl at the request of her father.”

Marisa held onto Lyra tighter, but it the increased pressure only woke her up. Lyra started at the sight of her friend and broke out of her mother’s arms. So that was it, was it? Was this Lyra’s plan all along? The girl had more cunning in her than Marisa gave her credit for.

“We’ve done what you asked and let you go to your friend. Now, you must let us finish our job.”

“I know,” Lyra’s voice was hoarse, “We’d been hurt.” The plural. Together. What scraps Marisa had taken to feeding on.

The angels didn’t even acknowledge Marisa, instead it was the young boy who did. “What do you want us to do with her?”

“We can take her with us. If that’s what you want, Lyra.”

Lyra turned to look back at her mother. Her expression was unreadable. Marisa held her gaze.

“Yes. That’s what I want.”


End file.
